Motherhood Plus Makeup

So.  I'm adding dressing up, experimenting with makeup, and doing crazy hair to the list of things I only liked before I had kids.  Also on the list--wearing a bathing suit in public, low-rise jeans, and the bathtub.  Okay, I still love baths, but these days my tub is always filled with bathtoys and usually tinged some strange color as a result of the bathtime crayons Caleb got in his stocking.  Soaking in slightly-orange-tinted water just isn't as relaxing, and scrubbing the tub beforehand kind of defeats the purpose.  Anyway.  I digress.

The Wichita Theater (that bastion of art and perfection) is putting on Cinderella in three days.  I'm in it.  I am a wicked stepsister.  

And it is great fun.  Don't believe me?  I get to scream and yell, wear this awesome fat bustle-butt contraption, and sing my little heart out.  I might even get a few laughs in the process.  It is such great fun.

What is NOT great fun?  The AWFUL hairdo I have to get my hair teased, sprayed and kinked up into each night.  The eighties have nothing on me, believe me.  Also not fun:  the layers and layers and LAYERS of makeup required to "make me ugly enough."  Apparently it takes alot, so I guess that's a compliment.  But also a headache.

I was looking forward to it!  I really, really was!  In high school, nothing was better than holing up in my bathroom, working for hours on myself and emerging, looking like a completely different person.  (Simon might make observation here that many women do this every morning...but I am speaking of an even MORE different person, honey.)

WHY is all this un-fun?  Here's the difference:  kids.  Oh, and a few others:  I don't enjoy looking at myself in the mirror as much any more.  My alone time is so limited that spending it this way seems ludicrous.  Oh--and the kicker--my current bathroom is nowhere near as big as the one I grew up with, and the counter space is nonexistent.  Not that really care most days.  But for THIS process, it's a problem.

Back to the kids part--picture this.  Me, curlers just recently out, hair springing in every direction, trying to tease it, pin it up and spray it, while I keep Lyla out of the toilet, Caleb out of my makeup box, and dinner from burning on the stove in the kitchen.  In about six square feet of space.

Things I have learned:  

You can't tease your hair while holding a child.  

Cheap liquid eyeliner plus fake eyelash glue is a super-painful combination.  

Tammy Faye may never have had a serious conversation in her life.  Cause who can really talk to you when you look like that?

Things I plan on trying:  NOT showering after I take my hair down--and letting it be even crazier the next night.  This is the kind of thing motherhood drives me to.

Pictures to come...be warned.